


Hated You from Hello

by Gondolin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: (well sort of?), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sex, Blanket Permission, CorSec!Corran, Imperial!Tycho, M/M, PWP, Podfic Welcome, Porn With (A Flimsy Excuse of a) Plot, non canon compliant obvs but around there for timeline, pre-Krytos Trap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-11-02 11:43:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20734721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gondolin/pseuds/Gondolin
Summary: Lieutenant Horn had disliked Captain Celchu immediately. The feeling had been mutual.That fact, however, didn’t seem to be enough to prevent the current state of affairs.“This won’t happen again, Lieutenant,” Tycho panted in Corran’s ear, pushing him against the shelves.





	Hated You from Hello

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the Corran/Tycho I promised around. I procrastinated one fic with another of the same pairing (and I am now so deep in rarepair hell. So deep. You have no idea how much I actually ship these two now. Send help. Or not.)
> 
> There's even a fic/pairing playlist: [[Corran/Tycho] Nemesis | Hated You from Hello](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1a2e1Dv3Wg5LNoByUlntnF?si=fMRGxE9hRkS9EgFhEbYwUA)

****Lieutenant Horn had disliked Captain Celchu immediately. The feeling had been mutual.

That fact, however, didn’t seem to be enough to prevent the current state of affairs.

“This won’t happen again, Lieutenant,” Tycho panted in Corran’s ear, pushing him against the shelves. He knew firsthand how they’d leave horizontal bruises on his back and arms, and didn’t feel even a sliver of regret.

“Just shut up,” Horn sniped back, unbuckling Tycho’s belt. His own dark green flightsuit was already half off, hanging haphazardly from his hips, leaving his muscled arms visible in the closet’s half-light.

“I should have you reported for insubordination,” Celchu hissed.

“Try it,” Corran growled, the sound going straight to Tycho’s dick. “If I have to go down, I’m taking you with me.”

After that he was thankfully silent, only his breathing and the rustle of clothes filling the silence. Then he spat on his palm and took both their dicks in hand. Tycho gasped and held onto the shelf behind Corran with both hands, while pushing his hips into the strokes, matching their rhythm. Corran’s fingers were rough, the space between his thumb and index calloused from long hours at an X-Wing stick - much like Tycho’s own. He still couldn’t help but shudder when a callus caught on the sensitive underside of his cock.

Corran’s other hand grasped his ass pulling him even closer and nearly making him lose his footing, caught in his own pants. He ended up leaning against Corran’s chest, closer than ever. He could smell his sweat, feel the minute shivers running through the other man. He bit his shoulder and Corran simply sped up the rhythm, groaning in pleasure.

Tycho came first, spilling between them and mostly on Corran’s undershirt. Corran simply took it off and used it to wipe away at best he could what little drops had ended up on his suit.The ever-present gold medallion gleaned amongst the dark hair on his chest.

Tycho went to his knees, ignoring the cold hard floor. “This is just so you won’t make a mess out of my uniform.”

“Whatever you say, Cap,” Horn replied, then grabbed his hair hard enough to hurt pushed his face forward towards his own erection.

Tycho liked it. He wanted to see how angry he could make the Corellian, se how far he could push him. There was a power in riling someone up like that, and Horn seemed to have a very short fuse. Then he just stopped thinking and focused on sucking, trying to make the other come quickly, before they were missed.

* * *

No tears were shed for Lieutenant Horn. The only people who might have cared about him, his partner Wessiri and old man Bastra, were gone with him. They had let themselves get killed in a trap that any green recruit would have known to avoid.

Fools, the whole lot of them, Tycho though bitterly. It was always the smart ones who got overconfident. Privately, he could admit it: he had harboured some hope that Horn might one day defect to the Rebellion, given his general displeasure with Imperial meddling in Corellia. He was a decent pilot and a good shot, and the Rebel Alliance had always need for more of those. Tycho himself wished he could join them, but when he’d reached out after the destruction of his home planet, the Rebellion had begged him to stay instead and be their agent on the inside. Rationally, he knew he could do more damage like this, better avenge Alderaan and help rid the galaxy of the power who had committed such atrocities. But a part of him burned every time he had to put on his dark grey uniform, every time he had to say “yessir” so some of the brass and carry out their orders.

The meetings with his rebellion contacts were rare and unevenly spaced so as to make them harder to predict for the enemy, and it was always new faces.

As he rose through the ranks, it got harder to slip away unnoticed. The level of paranoia the upper echelon of the Imperial Navy and ISB operated at made sure he was under constant scrutiny from his peers as well as his superiors and underlings.

The tension rose even higher once he got transferred to Imperial Center. The galactic capital was a known rebel target, and resources for its defence were being pulled in left and right. He had to keep feeding his superiors some real information on the Rebel Alliance, along with the carefully placed falsehoods. Even though he was doing necessary work, it was dirty and weighted on his conscience. The good info he fed to the Imps to keep his cover occasionally killed very real rebels.

When he discovered the plot to turn Coruscant into a giant trap to drain the Rebellion’s reserves of bacta and create a drift between humans and non-humans, he knew he had to get the information out quickly. He knew there were other agents on Coruscant, but he didn’t know who they were. The only option he had was to use an emergency code he had been given in case he needed immediate extraction.

He went to a safe house, hoping he wasn’t being followed and that he could eventually resume his post. But even if he couldn’t, even if his cover was blown right then, he figured the information was worth it. The virus the empire was planning to use was deadly, but wasn’t airborne, and boiling water would be enough to kill it. If and only if the information got out quickly, its impact would be minimal. They could still capture Coruscant without killing the Alliance in doing so.

The single-use burner comm he’d been hiding for this very occasion beeped with the agreed upon codes, and then someone knocked on the door. Tycho pulled out his blaster, then opened the door. The other person had the codes, but it always payed to be sure.

And Tycho found himself raising his blaster immediately, because he was seeing a ghost.

“Horn?”

“So you’re our man on the inside. Commander Antilles could have warned me.” Corran laughed. “I always thought you were a lousy officer.”

“Excuse you, I am an excellent officer. Just a lousy Imperial,” Tycho replied, holstering his blaster.

“We’re good, then?”

“We’re good. Now I’ve got some info the Alliance will want to hear…”

* * *

“You could have killed me!”

“But I didn’t!”

“If you wanted me dead, you could have just kept your post and shot at me from your TIE, _Captain_,” Corran spat out.

“I was trying to save your life, you ungrateful laserbrain moof-milker!”

He’d had to push Corran out of the way of a falling building - buildings, a few levels of them - with a rather unorthodox manoeuvre. And yes, he’s scratched the paint on the man’s precious X-Wing and nicked his droid, but really -

“You couldn’t kriffing comm?! Like a normal person?”

“Imps were jamming our frequencies and I panicked!” Tycho yelled, shocking even himself with that admission.

It was nothing, it meant nothing, simply not wanting a fellow rebel pilot dead, Tycho wanted to scream, but instead he found himself staring into Corran’s green eyes from much, much closer.

An insufferable smirk was forming on the Corellian’s lips and Tycho’s mind immediately supplied images of several ways to wipe that smirk off. Only few of them were acceptable in public.

“So you worried about me?”

Tycho had intended to push Corran away, but instead his palms just stopped on Corran’s chest. Then he closed his fists on the fabric and tipped Corran closer.

Corran’s breath was on his lips for just a second, before he stepped away.

“Figures I gotta thank you, then.”

His eyes gleamed - for a moment Tycho was worried Corran was going to wink at him - he wouldn’t have put it past him, but the moment passed and Corran simply dragged Tycho along the corridor to his quarters.

They walked inside without hurry, but with something more than the mindless urgency that had drawn them together before buzzing under their skin. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the fight. They had survived the battle for Coruscant. They had taken Coruscant. And they were alive to celebrate. Maybe it was truly being on the same side for the first time.

“This is new,” Tycho commented, trying to get his mind away from the nervous tension he felt coiling inside him and pushing Corran on the bed.

“We can still find a storage closet, if it’s more to your liking,” Corran teased him.

The Alderaanian groaned. “I’ve had enough of those for the rest of my life.”

“You sure? I think I might miss seeing you on your knees.”

“Who says I have to stop that? C’me here,” he said with what could have almost been mistaken for fondness, starting to undo the life support straps on Corran's flightsuit. They tangled into each other and Tycho had to step back and sit up to work on his own kit first.

They dropped their suits in crumpled heaps that would be impossible to detangle in an emergency and would give Commander Antilles premature white hair. Not that either of them was thinking about their commanding officer right then.

They were much more focused on each other, their movements deliberate, more skin showing than they’d ever had before.

Tycho pushed Corran down against the crisp sheets, kicked the covers to the side and straddled him. He leaned down, going for the neck, but Corran’s hand in his hair corrected his course. Tycho’s lips touched down messily on Corran’s - a crash more than a landing, and he bit down in retaliation. He was rewarded with a full body shudder and the hand in his hair tightened.

Corran bucked up and Tycho’s dick was pressed between their bodies, agains’t Corran’s hipbone. Tycho whined at the pressure - not quite enough.

He pushed Corran’s legs apart, settling between them, a hand on his hips, gripping hard enough to leave little half-moons where his nails were, his other arm holding him up on the bed.

After they got off a first time, quick and dirty, just to take the edge off, Tycho simply plopped down on top of Corran. There wasn’t much space for sprawling out on the bed anyway.

“You know,” Corran said in a speculative tone, “Some day we could even get out, have dinner together…”

“Is that a date you’re proposing, Lieutenant?” Tycho grinned at him.

“I’m just saying that we should figure out if we can have an entire conversation without fighting or fucking, at some point.”

“We should.”

“Not tonight, though.”

“Hell no.”

**Author's Note:**

> While reading The Krytos Trap, I got to the part of Corran flying a TIE fighter and got a sudden and violent need for hard, dirty CorSec!Corran/Imperial!Tycho hatesex. But, me being me, I gave up on the grimdark after three lines, because I could not take Tycho seriously as an actual Kirtan Loor. So, to the surprise of absolutely no one, this turned into a sort of Krytos Trap preemptive fix it. And there’s no Lusankya either. I’ve kept the hatesex, at least.


End file.
